


Snowed In

by 391780 (goblinparty)



Series: Cold Wind [15]
Category: Fargo (2014)
Genre: M/M, SEX!, booze!, violent stories!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-03
Updated: 2014-09-03
Packaged: 2018-02-16 00:05:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2248530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goblinparty/pseuds/391780
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The job in Duluth went as easily as the Australian had promised it would, and Numbers made a mental note to thank him for the cakewalk assignment as he flopped down on the motel bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snowed In

The job in Duluth went as easily as the Australian had promised it would, and Numbers made a mental note to thank him for the cakewalk assignment as he flopped down on the motel bed. Wrench was seated at the edge of the mattress, frowning at the weather report on the television. Numbers glanced at the chart of the screen, indicating more snow was coming and that it was recommended to stay off the roads for the next day or so. He let out a long, melodramatic sigh. Snowed in. Fucking great. Numbers heard a low buzzing, and watched as Wrench fished out his cell phone from his pocket and tapped wildly on the buttons, a grin slowly spearing across his face. When he was finished, Wrench looked up at his partner.

_Hammer's staying in F-a-r-g-o. Permanently._

_Is he going to move in with you, then?_ Numbers secretly hoped he wouldn't, he didn't know if he could deal with the stern, accusatory looks every time he came over to get laid.

_Nah, I've got a better room mate in mind._ Wrench winked slyly.

_Very subtle._

_Subtle is when I slowly steal everything you own and move them into my apartment._

_Wait, is that why all of my pots and pans are missing?!_ Wrench grinned, pressing his tongue against the back of his teeth, hissing out a laugh. Numbers felt a small flash of anger before it melted away entirely. He scowled at his partner, but didn't argue any further. If he made too much of a fuss, the next things to go missing would be his underwear and hair gel.

_Don't you think it's a little fast?_ Wrench shook his head, still grinning.

_I've been wanting all of this since I saw you in A-b-e-r-d-e-e-n. It's been a long time coming for me._ Numbers blushed. He barely remembered doing a job in Aberdeen, and was somewhat embarrassed that Wrench had managed to watch him work without detecting him at all. He watched Wrench's eyes flick upwards slightly, looking out the window behind him. Numbers turned his head, following his partner's gaze. It was snowing harder now, large white flakes blowing nearly sideways at a decently quick pace. Numbers heard the television sputter, and watched the lights blink.

_Do you think we'll lose power?_ No sooner had Wrench signed it than the lights and television went out. Numbers pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. He felt a tap on his elbow.

_Tell me about your favorite job you've been on._

_What?_

_We've got two bottles of rum and we're snowed in with no television. There's literally never been a better time to swap stories. Plus, the Aussie isn't here, so you'll actually be able to do some telling instead of just listening._ Numbers' shoulders shook with a silent laugh.

_That fucking guy. Been out on maybe a dozen jobs in the past decade and can't stop talking about any of them._

_He's bored, man. I would be too, if I was stuck in the office all day every day._ Wrench leaned back into a more relaxed position on the mattress.  _So go on. Favorite job._

_Can I think about it while you tell me yours?_

_No, but you can think about it while I get the booze out of my bag._ Numbers ran his hands over his hair while he racked his brain. Favorite job? There were some he thought were interesting or more enjoyable than others, but favorite? He wasn't sure. He watched Wrench fish out their traditional celebratory bottles of liquor from his duffel bag. They always celebrated after every job, as they understood that the work was dangerous and there might not be a next job at all. Numbers was always of the impression that if one of them got hurt or killed, the other would probably just drink both bottles alone.

_Well? Think of anything?_ Wrench handed a bottle to his partner.

_I think I've got one. Out in Kansas somewhere, trying to find this guy we think is stealing money from us. I follow him around for a few days, I can't figure out for the life of me how he's getting the cash out of the building. Finally grabbed him and strapped him down to a chair, he wouldn't talk. Big fucking smirk on his face, like I was never gonna figure out how he did it. I went to shove a butterfly knife into his knee, but it doesn't sink in, just slides right off. Dude had been shoving bills into his prosthetic leg. Couldn't fucking believe it. It was just so brazen. I just started laughing and he looked like he was gonna piss himself. I've never been more satisfied with the result of a job in my life, just breaking that little shit and taking that stupid smug look off his face._

_What did you do with him?_

_Beat his skull in with his plastic leg, of course._ Wrench threw his head back and laughed deeply, his eyes watering. Numbers laughed a bit himself, enjoying the memory of that particular job.  _So come on, tell me one. Stupidest injury on a job._

_I got shot by a clown once._ Numbers lurched forward with a snorting laugh, nearly shooting cheap rum out of his nose. Wrench continued.  _I was supposed to pick up cash for a guy who was blackmailing someone who worked at this circus. I got there to pick it up and the guy was there, in full clown getup, pistol in hand. He grazed me, but I managed to beat the living tar out of him anyways._ Wrench lifted his shirt to show off the oblong scar along the side of his abdomen. Numbers leaned forward and traced the discolored scar lightly with his fingertips. He'd always been curious about that scar, and was pleased to finally learns it's origins.

_Did you kill him?_

_No. Just knocked out a handful of teeth and broke his nose. There were too many people milling around outside his tent and I didn't think I could kill him and get away with it. Figured nobody would call the cops on me if I only beat him up for shooting me, which they didn't._ Wrench shrugged. 

_Smart._ Sometimes Numbers felt bad at how surprised he was at Wrench's abilities. He kept forgetting that this big, goofy kid was actually incredibly clever and thorough. He took another swig of his rum.

_Your turn again. Strangest request F-a-r-g-o has ever made to you._ Numbers tapped his chin thoughtfully.

_There was one guy, big fat fella, who worked for us and turned out to be a fed. Boss was beyond furious, asked me to kill him with a harpoon. I couldn't get ahold of one, but I did get him with a spear gun._

_Sounds messy._ Wrench crinkled his nose.

_It was supposed to be. Problem was, he was in a Jeep and I was in a car, and my aim was no good. I was supposed to leave his face intact, but I ended up getting him in the side of the head. He sort of looked like he was wearing one of those gag 'arrow through the head' costume headbands, but with a lot more blood._ Wrench was in hysterics at the mental image, slapping his knee and laughing loudly. Numbers grinned at him. He loved watching the younger man laugh. The way his eyes crinkled in the corners and his shoulders shook expressed nothing but joy, and Numbers was always thrilled to be the cause of it.

_OK, your turn. Cleanest, easiest job, no loose ends or anything._

_Easy. Caved in a guy's skull with a crowbar in his home. I put the crowbar down on the counter while I went into the bedroom to get his briefcase and his girlfriend came home and picked up the bloody crowbar to look at it before finding his body. I slipped out the window. Her prints were on the weapon, and apparently they fought a lot. She's serving 25 to life, I heard._

_Jesus, that's lucky. For you, not her. Obviously._ Numbers took another swig of his rum. He was starting to feel it now. His head felt like it was spinning, and the filter from his brain to his hands was disintegrating. 

_Grossest job. Go._ Wrench watched his partner through glassy eyes.

_Pushed a woman into a fish grinder. Watched it grind her up, from her feet to her skull. Shredded up gore and splintered bone everywhere. Thank fuck those machines are loud, there was no way I could have covered up those screams otherwise. Stopped eating tuna for a while after that._ Numbers took an extra large swig from his bottle.

There was a long silence as the men stared at their hands and sipped their liquor, avoiding eye contact. They'd both done horrible, unmentionable things. So many of them, in fact, that they felt comfortable laughing about the pain and misery they'd caused on some of those occasions. Wrench tried not to dwell on this sort of thing for too long, because every time he did he felt like a monster. Every time he got hurt on a job, no matter how minor, he always felt like he deserved it. He looked to Numbers, and tried to imagine him pushing that woman into the fish grinder, a cold look on his face while watching her body get slowly chewed up by merciless metal teeth. He felt his guts clench.

_Do you ever think about leaving this job?_ Wrench looked to his partner with a look that was all at once hopeful and questioning.

_To do what, exactly?_

_I don't know. Anything._

_Nah. I've been doing this long enough, it's really all I'm good at. Besides, I'm too old to be trying a new career. And what the hell would my resume even look like?_

_I guess you're right. Stupid question. Sorry._ Wrench tried to turn away to end the conversation, but he felt his partner gingerly tap his elbow.

_Are **you** thinking about leaving? _ Numbers could feel his heart in his throat as he asked the question. Wrench just shrugged.

_I finally have people I care about in my life, and suddenly doing all this shit seems..._ his hands stalled midair... _pointless. Reckless. Stupid. I don't know._

_Your brother and I are in the same business as you._ Numbers tried to make his facial expression a comforting one.  _We're doing the same stuff. You aren't the only one taking a risk doing these things. We're all in this together._

Wrench launched himself across the mattress, grabbing his partner by the back of the head and kissing him roughly. Numbers' beard scratched his face, and his mouth burned with the cheap rum they'd been drinking, but it only made Wrench feel more alive. He kept advancing until he was entirely on top of Numbers, pinning his partner to the mattress with his body weight. Wrench felt Numbers writhing underneath him, clawing at his back, his partner's cock hardening rapidly against his thigh. He loved feeling Numbers grow desperate underneath him, knowing he could drive him entirely wild with desire.

After a few minutes, Numbers pushed Wrench off of him, gasping for air.

_Just fuck me already!_ Normally, Wrench would just tease him more, prolong the foreplay until Numbers threatened to blacken his eye, but tonight all he wanted was to stop feeling numb. Wrench yanked off his clothes clumsily while Numbers stripped as fast as he could.

Numbers got onto his hands and knees, listening to the familiar sound of a bottle of lube being popped open and poured into palms that ran over the length of a giant Oklahoman cock. He gasped slightly as cold, wet fingertips found their way to his ass, dipping inside him and curling as Wrench's mouth bit and sucked hungrily at the flesh on his thighs. He felt warm and dizzy from the mixture of pleasure and alcohol, his head spinning as his skin felt electric, sensitive to every touch like a plasma lamp. He felt Wrench pull his fingers out of him and press his cock against his asshole, gripping his hips with intense pressure. With one quick movement, Wrench pushed himself inside, sending a jolt of pain and pleasure up Numbers' spine. After a few violent thrusts, Wrench's hands left his partners hips and slid forward, blindly searching for his cock. Large, powerful hands began stroking up and down Numbers' shaft and caressing his balls, causing him to moan wantonly and with total abandon. Numbers liked to fuck the way he liked to work, quickly, brutally, and without thinking too much about feelings. He felt Wrench rest his forehead on his back, grunting loudly with every thrust. For a moment, he thought he heard Wrench sniffle behind him.

Numbers felt filled up, both with Wrench's cock and his own cum. Pretty soon, just like all things that are filled to their limit, he was going to burst. A loud, gutteral grunt erupted from the core of Numbers' very being as he sprayed hot cum on the sheets. Wrench returned his hands to Numbers' hips and continued pounding into his partner's ass until he too emptied himself and collapsed. After a moment, he pulled out of Numbers and rushed to the bathroom, wiping the tears from his cheeks before Numbers could see them. If Numbers found out Wrench had cried during sex, he'd never hear the end of it.

Wrench closed the bathroom door and stared in the mirror, studying his own reflection and giving himself a silent pep talk.  _This is who you are, this is what you are. You can either be happy as a monster, or you can leave all of it behind. But if you leave it behind, you'll have to leave **them** , too. _ He thought about Numbers and Hammer, and how long it took to finally assemble his strange, violent little family. He smiled involuntarily at the memory of Numbers perching on his toes to kiss him for the very first time in that godforsaken family cabin, and made up his mind. If Numbers stayed with Fargo, so would he. He couldn't bear the thought of his boyfriend being partnered up with someone else, depending on a stranger to keep him safe. No matter what came their way, Wrench was determined to have Numbers' back. He ran the tap, taking handfuls of frigid water into his hands and splashing it over his face, feeling all his doubts and misgivings wash down the drain.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
